Category Archives: Famous People

Terry Waite

Freedom can have too great a cost – held hostage in Beirut

Other themes:

is violence ever right? Revenge, bullying, loneliness

The Problem

Listen to this. What would you do in this situation?

Three-thirty at last. Jamie unblocked his bike to cycle home. Glancing up he could see big Sam Baynes coming across the school playground – he looked in a foul mood, and Jamie could guess why: he’d seen Sam standing outside the Head’s office. Good, thought Jamie grinning, Sam’s a bully, deserved any punishment he got.

The next thing he knew was a fist slamming into his stomach. “That’ll wipe the smile off,” Sam called back as he strode off.

Walking his bike through the school gates, Jamie couldn’t stop the tears coming.

“What’s up, Jamie?” It was his older brother, Rob, cycling past from the high school up the road. Usually Rob ignored him, but he could see Jamie was in a state.

Jamie explained, pointing to Sam’s disappearing figure.

“Well,” said Rob. “Let’s get him now. Tell you what, I’ll hold him while you give him a punch like he gave you. Then I’ll smack him around a bit. He won’t give you any trouble after that.”

Jamie thought. He wasn’t sure it would work out like that – and wouldn’t it make him just as much of a bully as Sam?

Now think:

What should Jamie do? If he and his brother set on Sam, would that definitely solve the problem as Rob thinks it will, or could it make things worse? Think too if the use of fists is the best way, the right way, of dealing with the problem.

(You could discuss this or pass on to the main story.)

The Story

Keep that in mind as I tell you now a true story about someone who had the opportunity to use violence to solve his problem.

They said they would lead him to the place where the hostages were being held.

They said, “Come with us, come and meet the kidnappers, we will help you work out a deal.” It seemed like they could be trusted.

Terry didn’t realise he was walking into a trap.

Terry Waite had a special role in the Church of England as the envoy, or agent, of the Archbishop of Canterbury. When people abroad were in danger or difficulty, he could be sent out to help. Now he was in the war-torn Middle East, in Beirut, where one of the fighting groups had kidnapped several British people. Their idea was to bribe Britain into helping them against their enemies. Terry’s task was to make contact with the kidnappers and persuade them to release the hostages, then get them to safety.

Terry would have made quite an impression when he landed in Beirut in that January of 1987 – six foot sever, almost seventeen stone, wearing size fourteen shoes. But he knew he would have to tread very carefully not to put the hostages in even more danger.

So far, so good. He had talked with people who knew who the kidnappers were and where the hostages were being held. “Trust us, we’ll take you to them,” these people said. Now Terry was sitting, blindfolded, in the back seat of a car, being driven through the dark streets of Beirut.

Unaware that the trap was closing.

The car stopped in a small road full of potholes. He was led to an upstairs room and told to wait. “When will I see the hostages?” he asked. They just said, “Later.”

Still blindfolded, he waited, hoping against hope. Finally he slept.

“Stand up, Mr Waite.” It was the evening of the second day.

Terry felt himself being guided back down the stairs and into a van. “Are you taking me to the hostages?”

They answered, “Don’t speak.”

When the van stopped he was led into a garage. The blindfold was off now and he could see an open trapdoor in the floor. He was taken through it to a large underground room. In one wall was a heavy steel door with a barred window. The door swung open to reveal an empty cell. He was pushed in. He heard the key turned in the lock behind him. And knew that he had been betrayed. They were not going to take him to see the hostages, they were not going to help him work out a deal. No. Terry was now a hostage himself.

The days dragged by, the cell stiflingly hot, the air smelling of petrol and sweat. The kidnappers brought him food but didn’t answer his questions – why? How long? Terry spent much time in prayer, for his family, for the other hostages, and for himself: God, help me, please, help me.

Then one day he was blindfolded and let out. For a moment he thought excitedly, Am I to be set free? But no, he was simply taken to another cell where he was kept chained, released just once a day to be taken to the toilet. One time he was tortured, beaten across the soles of his feet till they burnt like fire. His captors seemed to think he had some vital information. But he didn’t.

The days passed. He went on praying. How long?…Why?…God, help me!

Then, one day, when he was taken to the bathroom, pushed in with the usual “Be quick!”, he saw, on top of the toilet cistern, a gun. An automatic pistol, complete with silencer. His mind was racing. Obviously one of the guards had just been to the toilet and left his gun behind. Perhaps tired or just careless. Whatever, Terry realised that there, within reach, was his way out. His guard was standing unsuspecting outside the door. Oh, perhaps there were one or two other guards around as well, but he had surprise on his side. He could do it. He could escape. It was his chance, his only chance.

But he knew, if he picked up the gun, he would have to be prepared to use it. He wouldn’t get away just waving it around. He would have to hurt someone, even kill them. And he knew he couldn’t do it. He had always believed that violence was wrong. It would be wrong now. Even though they had hurt him.

He called the guard in, pointed out the gun. The guard grabbed at it, took it out of Terry’s reach. Terry had given away his only chance of escape.

He was to stay in captivity for a long time after that, most of it chained up and alone. He suffered constant toothache, cockroaches biting his feet as he tried to sleep, and terrible loneliness. But he never regretted not using the gun.

He was released in November 1991 after 1,763 days in captivity.

That’s nearly five years.

But he never regretted not using the gun.

Time of Reflection

Think now: is it ever right to use violence? Don’t just think of the violence of fists and weapons but the violence of cruel words. Is it ever right to hurt? Does violence solve problems or can it just make things worse? What would you have done in Terry’s place? What could have been the result for him, for the other hostages?

Just a moment of silence while we think about these things.

Bible Bits

Listen to what the Bible says:

“If someone has done you wrong, do not repay him with a wrong.” (Romans 12:17)

Jesus said: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44)

Prayer

Father God, next time I have the opportunity to hurt someone, help me to think whether it’s the right thing to do, whatever they’ve done to me. Thank you for Jesus, who never hit back, who never said a cruel word, who even prayed for his executioners, “Father, forgive them.” Amen

Variations on a Theme

The story about Terry Waite could be mimed by a group of children as you read. You would need a minimum of three actors (Waite, contact, guard) plus a blindfold.

Quiz Questions

Who was Terry Waite working for when he went to the Middle East?
What had he been sent to do?
What size shoes does he take?
When did he know for sure that he had been led into a trap?
What did Terry spend much time doing?
Where did he see the gun?
Why did he not use it to escape?
What was the pain inside his head due to?
What made it difficult to sleep?
For how long was he held hostage?

Mary Slessor

Bullying isn’t right! – tribal practices in Africa

Other themes:

courage, not turning away when someone needs you

The Problem

Listen to this. What would you do in this situation?

Joe wandered into the dining hall and looked round. With his best friend away he’d have to find some other company. He’d feel a right nerd sitting by himself.

Well..there was bully boy Derek Harris and his stupid gang. They’d have to do. He strolled over, sat down and opened his lunch box.

Derek was going on about a little lad in the class called Mark Fenton. “But what really did it was when Fenton told Mr Jones that I’d stuck chewing gum behind the bookcase. What stinking business was it of his? Tell you what…” – his gang gathered in closer – “he needs to learn a lesson, he does. And I’m gonna be his teacher.”

The gang were impressed. “Whatcha gonna do, Delboy?”

“I’ll tell you. He has to go down this little alley on the way home. I’ll be there with a great slodge of well-chewed gum. He’ll be scraping it off for weeks!”

The gang chuckled and went, “Yeah, yeah.” Then there were the sounds of crisp packets being scrunched up and chairs pushed back. Joe looked up and found Derek looming over him. Derek spoke softly. “I guess you heard all that, but you just keep quiet about it. It’s not your business, all right?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders. Well, it wasn’t his business. Or was it?

Now think:

What should Joe do? Is it right that he “keeps quiet” about it, if he just lets it happen? Or does he have a responsibility towards Mark Fenton?

(You could discuss this or pass on to the main story.)

The Story

Keep Joe’s problem in mind as I tell you a true story, about Mary Slessor from Scotland.

Mary could hear them following her in the darkness, hear the rapid clickety-clack of their clogs on the cobbles as they gained on her. She’d been warned that part of Dundee could be dangerous but, young as she was, she’d been determined to help out at the Christian youth club held there.

They were right behind her now.

Suddenly she was surrounded. A gang of rough lads. The leader began spinning a lead weight on a piece of string round his head, letting the string out little by little. “We don’t want your sort here,” he breathed. “So get out – now!”

She stared at him. She could see the lead getting closer, closer to her face at each spin. Swish…swish…She could feel the quick sigh of air as it whisked by her forehead. But if she ran off now, how would the young people living in these dark streets ever hear of a God who loved and valued them? So, her heart pounding, her lips whispering a prayer, she stood her ground.

The lad finally let the weight fall to his side and laughed. “You’re a brave one!”

“But what about you?” she answered back. “Are you brave? Brave enough to come to the club?”

They came.

She’d won.

As Mary grew up she longed to go as a missionary to Africa. And in 1876, when she was 27, she boarded the ship Ethiopia for the long voyage. She knew Calabar, on Africa’s west coast, was full of diseases and dangers, but God had told her to go, and that, for Mary, was that.

She loved Calabar, loved climbing its trees to feel the breeze whooshing through the topmost branches, loved its sunsets, great streaks of flame across the sky, loved its children who became her friends.

She could have done without some of the animal population though. She had only just landed when an iguana, a kind of huge lizard, seven feet long, scurried up to her, hissing horribly. She raised her umbrella, ready to do battle, and it scuttled off.

Another time an elephant charged at her. She prayed…and it changed course just in time.

And one night she woke up to find a long python slithering across her bedroom floor. A smack on the nose made it realise Mary was no easy victim. It went!

But more horrifying than any creature were the tribal customs – like human sacrifices to please the gods. But the custom that saddened Mary most was the killing of baby twins. It was believed the presence of twins brought bad luck, so as soon as they were born they were taken out into the jungle and left to die.

Mary prayed: Lord, I can’t just stand by and let this happen. But what can I do?

And God showed her.

She developed a network of spies who would rush to tell her if a woman was about to give birth. She would grab towels and medicines – and her umbrella, just in case – and run. If twins were born, she would bring them home with her straightaway to look after. She hung hammocks from the ceiling of her hut so she could rock them to sleep. And the people gradually learnt that twins do not bring bad luck.

But one of her most frightening times had nothing to do with wild animals or babies.

Mary heard that a woman from one of the villages was going to be punished. “What has she done?” Mary asked.

“She handed food to a man who was not her husband,” she was told.

“How is that a crime? And what is her punishement?”

“She will have boiling oil pouring on her.”

That evening in the village it was like a great party. Flames danced from fires lit round the main square. You could hear drums over the laughter and shouting. Mary pushed her way through the crowd and saw what was in the middle of the square. A woman was lying on the ground, her hands and feet held by four men. Beside her was a steaming pot of palm oil. The witch doctor, his face painted bright yellow, filled a ladle with the oil and held it over the trembling woman.

And Mary had a second to think: Am I just going to stand by and watch this happen? She knew what God wanted her to do.

She rushed up to the witch doctor. “You can stop that now!” she announced.

The witch doctor stumbled back in surprise, the hot oil spilling onto his feet. As he hopped about yelping, Mary began pushing the four men away. “Let her go – now. Get away with you!” They realised this was someone you don’t argue with and backed off. Mary bent down to help the shaking woman to her feet, then straightened up to see…wild eyes glaring from a mask of yellow.

The witch doctor! – holding high above his head the heavy ladle. Mary knew it could crack her skull like an egg.

He brought it down with a roar. It sliced the air to one side of Mary. Then the other side. Then he whirled it round his head, hoping to terrify her, hoping she would run, screaming, back into the jungle. But Mary remembered a boy with a lead weight many years before, and how she had stood her ground and won. God had protected her then. He would do the same now.

The witch doctor’s lunges became wilder, his roaring louder. But Mary could see not just anger in his eyes, but fear too. Fear at a woman who did not fear him.

Finally, exhausted, he dropped the ladle and Mary led the woman to safety. After a day or two her “crime” had been forgotten and she returned home.

No one can count the number of lives Mary saved, or the number of babies she rescued, or the number of people she helped understand that God loved and valued them.

So much changed in that part of Africa.

All because of a woman who did not turn away when someone needed her.

Time of Reflection

Think now: have I let something bad or wrong happen when I could have done something about it? – someone being hurt when I could have at least told an adult about it, or someone feeling afraid or unhappy when I could have helped them or comforted them? Have I ever thought, “I can’t be bothered?” Have I ever turned away when my help was needed?

Just a moment of silence while we think about these things.

Bible Bits

Listen to what the Bible says:

“Our love should not be just words and talk; it must be true love, which shows itself in action.” (1 John 3:18)

“We must help the weak.” (Acts 20:35)

(Children could also be reminded of the Good Samaritan story – Luke 10.)

Prayer

Father, when I see something happening that shouldn’t be happening, help me not to turn away but to think – can I, should I, do something about it? We think of Mary’s courage and pray for that courage for ourselves. Amen

Variations on a Theme

The Problem – the dining hall scene – could be made into a play by a group of pupils – with a “freeze” as the “Now think” questions are read out.

Quiz Questions

Why did Mary not run away when the gang in Dundee told her to?
What good thing happened because she didn’t run away?
Why did she love Calabar’s trees?
How big was the iguana?
How did Mary deal with the snake?
Why would a mother fear having twins?
What “crime” had the village woman committed?
How did the witch doctor try to frighten Mary?
How come Mary had the courage not to run away?
What happened to the village woman?

Note: Calabar is part of present day Nigeria.

Gladys Aylward

Going the extra mile – bringing God’s love to China

Other themes:

generosity, faith

The Problem

Listen to this. What advice would you give to the girl in this story?

The local free newspaper was on the mat when Vicky came in from school so she began to turn over the pages as she walked into the lounge. Dad, home early from work on a Friday, was asleep in the chair. Mum would be in soon with the shopping.

The paper was all ads, garden centres, restaurants, nothing that interested her. But – what was this? Suddenly she was absorbed in an article about an orphanage in a country in Eastern Europe, a country that seemed to lack every luxury and even a few necessities. A big truck was going to the orphanage from the town the next week. Readers were asked to make up packages of sweets or cheap toys to give to the children. It would be the first sweets the children would have had in a long time. Soap and toothpaste were also wanted.

“Look at this, Dad. Couldn’t we give something? I was thinking about the money I got from Uncle Bob for weeding his garden, I could get a lot of sweets with that. And you could –“

“Hey, wait a minute, Vicky,” said Dad, stretching. “Don’t get carried away. I’m not going out and buying stuff just like that. Anyway we all put money in that charity tin last week. And you had that day at school when you needn’t wear school uniform if you took 50p, and the money went to Africa, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but those things weren’t my ideas, I sort of did it because it was expected. But this is my idea. I want to do it.”

“No, Vicky, just forget it. You’ve done your bit. Let others do theirs. And just think what you could buy yourself with the money. You worked hard. You deserve something nice.”

Vicky sighed. Yeah, she could think of lots of things she’d like to get for herself. But was it fair when she had so much and they had so little?

Now think:

Has Vicky done her bit? Shouldn’t she just enjoy her hard earned money and forget about the orphanage?

(You could discuss this or pass on to the main story.)

The Story

Keep Vicky’s idea in mind, that she wanted to do something that she’d thought of, not her parents or her school, while I read you this true story. It’s about feet – oh, and a bloodstained axe.

Am I bowing low enough? she wondered. After all, he was the High and Mighty Mandarin of Yangcheng, the ruler of that entire district of China.

And she was just Gladys Aylward, an ordinary girl who’d become a missionary, who ran an inn in the town so she could tell the travellers stories of Jesus after the evening meal. She hadn’t expected to be called into the presence of the Mandarin. What could he want? He began to speak. Gladys straightened up and listened intently.

“You know, I presume, about our ancient custom of footbinding? Baby girls have their feet tightly bound in bandages to keep them small and dainty. Now the Government has given an order. This is to stop. I imagine you know of a number of foreign women with unbound feet. Please find one who will tour the villages, making sure the new rule is known. The pay is small, but I will provide guards and a mule.”

Gladys thought hard. A woman? To travel to lonely mountain villages on a mule? Who would want such a job?

But she did not speak these thoughts – the Mandarin would not listen to excuses or objections. He was the High and Mighty Mandarin of Yangcheng.

Several weeks later she was called into his presence again. He was not pleased with Gladys’s news. “What? You have found no one? Then,” said the Mandarin, gazing at Gladys, “you must do it. Start tomorrow.”

And that was it. Later Gladys began to see the funny side of it. How incredible! From being a simple maid in a London household to being the Mandarin’s personally appointed Inspector of Feet. What a grand title! She wiggled her toes inside her size threes and laughed and laughed.

And she really enjoyed the job. It wasn’t just the mountain scenery as the mule clambered up over the jagged ridges, the paths edged with wild roses, the wheat blowing in the terraced fields; it wasn’t just the welcome they received from the village women pleased that the law had been changed; it was also the delight on the faces of the babies and young girls as the crippling bandages came off. Gladys would straighten the toes which were bent right back under the foot and massage them.

Then she would gather the villagers together in the square and tell them the same stories she told in the inn – Jesus stopping for water at a village well, the parable of the Sower, stories of a hard country life like their own.

One day between mule tours, she had a message from the prison governor in Yangcheng. “Come at once. A riot has broken out.” So why call on me? was the question in her mind as she hurried through the streets.

The governor met her outside the entrance. “It is too dangerous for me to go in there,” he said, “but you have a God who protects you. You keep telling us that. So you will be all right.”

The gate was unlocked and Gladys was pushed in. She gaped at the awful sight. There were large cages round a paved courtyard. The prisoners had broken out of the cages and were attacking each other like wild animals. One was running around with a bloodstained axe, swinging it wildly.

Then they noticed her. The man with the axe started towards her. “Give me the axe!” Gladys cried out. She didn’t know what to say, there’d hardly been time to think or pray. The man stopped, gazed at her, then…calmly handed her the axe.

It was as if the prisoners all came to their senses at that moment. They stood still, their heads hung in horror and same. She saw how thin and uncared for they were. They had been treated like animals for so long, that they’d started acting like them. She talked to them. They told her they had nothing to do but sit in the cages.

The governor was thrilled she’d stopped the riot, not so thrilled when she told him sternly, “You must change the way you run the prison. You are being unfair. These men may be prisoners but they are human beings. They need things to do. They need to rebuild their lives.” And she arranged for some of the prisoners to learn weaving, some to grind grain, some to breed rabbits.

Twice now Gladys had been pushed into making life better, fairer for people, first the young girls, then the prisoners.

So, later, when war broke out with Japan, and Yangcheng was bombed, and people began fleeing, she could have said, “I’ve done my bit. I must think of myself now.” But she didn’t. She collected up all the homeless children she could find and led them to safety over the mountains. There was no Mandarin or prison governor to push her into doing it. She wanted to do it. It was a long, long journey, most of the time on foot, through dangerous territory. But they made it.

Gladys carried on caring for those who hadn’t got a fair deal in life, right up till she died in 1970. For her it was just following Jesus – hadn’t he cared for those who hadn’t had a fair deal – the lepers, the widows, the sick, the disabled? It wasn’t easy for Gladys, in fact as you’ve heard, it was often dangerous, but when her Lord had gone all the way to the cross out of love, how could she ever say, “I’ve done my bit now”?

Time of Reflection

Think now: do you know anyone who’s not had a fair deal in life? It may be someone you know personally, or you may have read about people in need, or seen them on TV. Is there anything you can do to make their lives better?

Just a moment of silence while we think about this.

Bible Bits

Listen to what the Bible says:

Jesus said “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” (John 13:34)

“Help to carry one another’s burdens, and in this way you will obey the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)

“The Lord Jesus himself said, ‘There is more happiness in giving than in receiving.’” (Acts 20:35)

Prayer

Father God, I have so much to eat and drink, I have so much fun and enjoyment. Give me eyes to see people in need so I can make things a bit fairer by sharing what I have. Help me to do it because I want to, not because I have to. Amen

Variations on a theme

Pupils could bring in stories cut from newspapers and magazines to show the variety of needs in the world. Contrasts could be made with the abundance we have. The assembly could lead into a charity support idea, but to fit in with the stories here, the initiative should come from the children.

Or pupils could perform the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10), or invent short plays based on the “more happiness in giving” verse above.

Quiz Questions

What had been Gladys’s job back in England?
Why had the Mandarin called Gladys into his presence?
What size shoe did she take?
What sort of Bible story did she tell the village people?
Why did the Governor ask her to stop the riot?
One of the prisoners handed her something – what?
What was wrong with the way the prison was being run?
How did Gladys help the prisoners rebuild their lives?
Why was it necessary to take the children away from Yangcheng?
Why did she do so much for needy people?

Brother Andrew

Two wrongs don’t make a right – taking Bibles to Communist countries

Other themes:

honesty, prayer

The Problem

The boy in this story has a difficult decision to make. Listen and think what you would do.

They watched the football sailing through the air, directly on line for the Deputy Head’s window. They knew what was going to happen. And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Cra-a-ash!

They stood, all six of them, dead still. For they knew what was going to happen now too. And there was nothing they could do to stop that either.

Here he came now. Talk about angry. No-one got angry like Mr Short, the Deputy Head.

“Right!” he bellowed. “Who kicked it? I want to know now. Now!”

His words seemed to echo round the playground. But none of the six lads said anything. Mr Short glared at them one by one. He stopped Jonathan Hill.

“You, boy! You’re going red in the face. I bet it’s you.”

Steve, another one of the six, felt for Jonathan. He was a good mate. But Mr Short was right. It had been Jonathan who’d kicked that ball. Of course, it was an accident, pure fluke.

But Jonathan didn’t say a word. He just went redder and redder.

“If it’s you,” snarled Mr Short, “I’m banning you from the school football team for the rest of the term.”

What? Steve silently groaned in dismay. But Jonathan was the best striker!

Suddenly Mr Short turned on Steve. “You – Steven Thorpe – you’re an honest lad, I know that. Tell me the truth. Did Jonathan Hill kick that ball through my window?”

Steve felt his mouth go dry. What could he say? If he said yes, that would let down his mate, and the team – they’d probably never win a match without Jonathan – so it would let down the school too. Yet saying no would be a lie.

“Well? Yes or no?”

Now think:

What would you answer? Can you see that saying no could lead to complications like the others being accused? Anyway Steve doesn’t want to lie. But is “yes” the best answer?

(You could discuss this or pass on to the main story.)

The Story

It’s hard to be completely honest when it might get us in trouble, perhaps even harder when it could hurt other people too. Here’s the true story of a man who made a tough decision – and stuck to it. He’s from Holland, his name is Andrew and he’s known as Brother Andrew. His surname’s a secret. I’ll tell you why later.

Andrew loved to travel, especially to the mysterious countries behind the Iron Curtain. This was the name given to the border that separated Western Europe from the Eastern European Communist Countries like Poland and Czechoslovakia.

In the fifties you couldn’t easily get permission to visit these countries unless you were in a group with a guide, but Andrew was able to get away from the group to meet local Christians. He was sad to see what a hard life they had. You see, the Communist governments taught, “There is no God” and they didn’t like people who disagreed.

So it could be hard for Christians to get good jobs, their churches were being closed down, and Bibles were very scarce.

As a Christian himself, Andrew wanted to help. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Above all,” they answered, “we need Bibles.”

Andrew could understand this as he loved the Bible himself. It gave him comfort and help, so he could imagine what God’s words of love could mean to people who were suffering for their faith. But how could he get the Bibles over the border?

He managed to get a permit – called a visa – to travel by himself to Yugoslavia, another Iron Curtain country. And some old friends gave him a car, a bright blue Volkswagen, which he filled with Bibles and Bible booklets.

Andrew knew that he would be stopped at the border, knew the car could be searched. If the Bibles or booklets were found, that would be that – they would be taken away. But what if he were simply asked, “Are you carrying Bibles?” He decided then he would not lie. Jesus had called himself the Truth. So how could Andrew lie if he was following Jesus?

It was a long drive from Holland to the Yugoslav border. On the way he remembered how Jesus had made blind people see. Now Andrew wanted him to do the opposite. He prayed hard that the guards would not be able to see what he was taking to the Christians.

There was the border now. Two guards. They seemed friendly – at the moment. They looked at his passport and then inside the car.

“Let me see inside this suitcase,” one said.

Andrew knew the suitcase was full of the forbidden booklets. But he had no choice. He opened it. The guard rummaged through. There they were, in the guard’s own language, in full view.

But – what was happening? The guard was turning away from the suitcase, was handing Andrew back his passport, was waving him through. He’d made it. It was just as if the guard hadn’t seen the booklets.

But – wasn’t that just what he’d prayed?

And didn’t those Yugoslav Christians welcome Andrew’s gifts!

Visas came for Andrew to visit other Communist countries. As he approached each border he prayed that same prayer and God answered. The guards just couldn’t seem to see the Bibles and Bible booklets.

All was going smoothly – until he went to cross the border into Romania, a strong Communist country. His car was full of you know what. As he came near the border he knew something was wrong. The cars waiting in front of him were, one by one, being minutely examined, the guards virtually taking each car to pieces, then putting it back together, searching every piece of luggage. He’d never seen anything like it.

It wasn’t just a glance in, a quick rummage. This was totally different.

As he waited in line he prayed, how he prayed. And suddenly he felt it right not to hide the Bibles better but to get some out and put them openly on the seat beside him.

After hours of waiting it was Andrew’s turn. He handed the guard his passport through the window, waited to be told to get out of the car. The Bibles were quite visible.

Then – it wasn’t possible – the guard handed the passport back, waved him on. Could it be happening? Was he through – just like that?

Yes, he was. Incredible. Especially when he looked back and saw them getting to work on the car behind. Everyone else – searched. But him – straight through.

Andrew realised that nothing was impossible for God.

Eventually Andrew became so well known to Communist officials that he could no longer go on such journeys. So he formed a team and trained them to go instead. That team has grown into an organisation called Open Doors.

The Iron Curtain is no more, but there are still many countries where Christians find life hard, countries like China and Cuba, so Andrew goes there now. He knows that in some places he would not be welcome – that’s why he keeps his surname a secret.

He always asks Christians what they need. They might ask for food, or clothing – one time a man asked for shoes, so Andrew gave him his own and travelled home in his socks – but usually it’s Bibles that are needed.

And God goes on helping, sometimes in strange ways. Once two young women from Open Doors were asked directly at a border, “Do you have Bibles with you?”

What could they say? The car was jam-packed with them.

Suddenly their mouths were filled with laughter. “Yes!” they roared. “The car’s full of Bibles!”

And the guard, thinking they were laughing at such a silly question, waved them through.

Time of Reflection

A lie, whether it is to help us or other people, can lead to big trouble. A writer called Sir Walter Scott put it this way: “O what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive.” Are you honest, trustworthy? Or are you spinning tangled webs that will one day trap you?

Just take a moment to think about this.

Bible Bits

God is firm about lies. The Bible gives a command:

“Never say anything that isn’t true. Have nothing to do with lies.” (Proverbs 4:24)

And it gives a promise:

“The Lord protects honest people.” (Proverbs 10:29)

Prayer

Help us, Lord Jesus, to value friendship as well as truth like Steve in the first story, but help us to see, as Andrew saw, that a lie for any reason is wrong. Amen

Variations on a Theme

Much of this assembly can be acted out by pupils. THE PROBLEM sketch needs an invisible football and a crash sound effect. The main story offers three sketch possibilities – the three border crossings. Chairs and a big grey blanket make a good car (though driving away would, I agree, be hard).

More details of these incidents are in Brother Andrew’s books, God’s Smuggler (Hodder and Stoughton) – Yugoslavia, chapter 10; Romania, chapter 15; and The Calling (Summit) – laughing, chapter 2.

“Open Doors” can be reached at PO Box 6, Witney, Oxon. OX8 7BR.

Quiz Questions

Why did Andrew want to get away from his tour group in Communist countries?
Tell me two difficulties Christians had in those countries.
What did they need most of all.
How did Andrew get his Volkswagen?
Why would he not lie at the border?
What did he pray before every border crossing?
Why was it so astounding that he crossed so easily into Romania?
One man asked not for Bibles but for – what?
What is Brother Andrew’s organisation called?
Why did the guard let the young women pass after they’d admitted having Bibles with them?

Elizabeth Fry

Freedom from fears – caring for the prisoners in Newgate

Other themes:

courage, faith

The Problem

Listen to this and see what you think.

Katy was having second thoughts. She hadn’t realised how it would look from up here. It was a long, long way down. Why on earth had she signed up for this? Oh, she knew why really – she’d wanted to try abseiling for ages, her friends had all done it and thought it was great.

But suddenly it seemed stupid, pointless. Why couldn’t she use the stairs? Why go down the wall?

Steve, the instructor, could see the hesitation, no – more than hesitation: this was fear. “You don’t have to do it, you know,” he said quietly. “I assure you you’re perfectly safe. But it’s up to you.”

Katy longed to say, “Yes, I’ll do it.” And she knew she’d regret it if she turned away now.

But – it was a long, long way down.

Now think:

What should she do? What would you do? Have you ever been in a situation like this, where your fear could stop you doing something you really want to?

(You could discuss this or pass on to the main story.)

The Story

Our true story begins about two hundred years ago, in London. A fashionable city, but also a dangerous one. A city of wide thoroughfares, but also of dark alleys, very dark alleys. There were areas where no one wandered alone, areas where anything could happen – and usually did.

But only one spot in London was known as “Hell above ground”. It was the worst place of all. Our story is about a woman who went there. Alone.

Sshh…listen…there’s her carriage now…

The horse-drawn carriage shudders its way over the rough ground. Perhaps the woman inside is shuddering too. But that would be from the deathly cold, not from fear. Oh yes, part of her is afraid – for she knows she may be attacked, even killed. But deep down she has peace. For she has, with God’s help, faced her fears many times before this and God has never let her down. And she knows God has sent her to this place, this “Hell above ground”. He will protect her.

Through the window she sees a road-sweeping boy scuttling out of the way of the horse. Then she sees – it. Her destination. Newgate Prison, looking like a hideous black castle. Only a few streets from St Paul’s Cathedral, but another world, a darker world.

The carriage stops and she gets down. Pulling her grey shawl more tightly around her, she mounts the stpes to a heavy shoulder-height door topped with iron spikes, through which a shadowy figure peers at her.

She is recognised. The door swings open, slams shut behind her. She is inside. Inside the dreaded Newgate Prison. This is the lodge, the way in, and for the very fortunate, the way out. But she must go further than this. She gazes at the handcuffs and cruel leg irons hanging on the wall while the guard unbolts a massive inner door. Another guard slides from the shadows and without a word leads her down a long dark passage. She has been in Newgate several times before, but never to “Hell above ground”.

Anyone who’d known her as a child would be surprised to see her here, for she had been the timid one, the one who was so afraid of the dark, who jumped at loud noises. She had ten brothers and sisters, all bright and boisterous; only Betsy, as she was called then, was full of fears.

But as she grew up she realised there was someone who could help her overcome her fears. God. She was glad, for she didn’t want to spend all her life being afraid. Her family were Quakers, Christians who had their own kind of church, called a Meeting House. But Betsy wanted to take it more seriously than her family seemed to.

So she married a strict Quaker, Joseph Fry, and moved to London. But life was unexpectedly dull. She wanted to do something for God. But what? Back home in Norfolk she’d done things – visiting sick people and cooking for them, starting a little school for the poor local children. Bedraggled and often smelly they were, but she loved them – “Betsy’s Imps” they were known as – and they loved her and the wonderful Bible stories she read to them. Surely in a big city there was something like that she could do.

Then a visitor came to the Fry home and told her about Newgate Prison, how the conditions were so terrible, how, because their mothers were prisoners, there were children there, babies even, unfed, unclothed. Betsy, or Elizabeth as she was called now, got together a group of Quaker friends and began knitting baby clothes. At last – something to do!

On that first visit she went to the Women’s Infirmary, the prison hospital. She was horrified. There were no beds. A few of the women and children had some dirty straw, but most were lying on the cold, bare boards. She saw no sign of medicines, no place to wash properly.

She was overwhelmed by their need – and, when she gave them the clothes, overwhelmed by their gratitude too. Somebody cared – they’d forgotten that. Yes, Elizabeth told them, God cares, and I care too. She knew they were prisoners, but knew too the innocent were mixed in with the guilty, knew that people were arrested for anything. Why, you could be hanged for stealing a loaf of bread, or a shirt from a washing line.

She visited the infirmary again and again. And she learnt that elsewhere in the prison were hundreds of other women, living in even worse conditions, living in a place called by the jailers, “Hell above ground”.

And now, she is here. The jailers in this section are astonished to see her, to hear her request. To go in there – alone? Into “Hell above ground”?

“Oh, madam, you don’t understand.”

“I understand,” she says. “Now please open the door.”

She can hear them already: mad laughter that threatens never to stop, shrieks of agony, a hundred other voices, shouting, arguing, singing.

The jailers open the door. And she walks in. The sight is incredible. Two women are fighting on the floor, tearing at each other’s hair. A child is slumped in a corner, dressed only in filth. A young woman, clearly starving, rocks a baby, trying to stop its sobs. The mad laughter is still going on. But then everyone seems mad, mad with despair.

Then they notice her and there is total silence. Even the laughing stops.

And Elizabeth knows this is the moment of most danger. They could so easily rush at her, tear at her clothes, her hair, in jealousy or in rage.

But they don’t. They see something in her eyes, something they barely recognise. Can it be love?

She moves over to the filthy child and smiles.

And the child smiles back.

Before long she has gathered the women together, told them that she wants to do something for them, for their children. To start a school. Right there in the prison. Yes, yes, they say.

So Elizabeth returns with books and helpers, and the school – for thirty children – begins. The mothers crowd round, wanting to learn too. So more helpers are brought in, the women taught not just to read, but also to sew, so that if and when they are released they will have an honest way of getting money.

The schooldays begin and end with Elizabeth reading Bible stories. The prisoners love them as much as the Imps did.

The prison authorities, even Parliament, are astonished at the change in “Hell above ground”. In face Elizabeth Fry became so well known that tourists would arrive at the prison asking to see her reading the Bible.

It was just the beginning. She helped improve conditions in other prisons, not just in England, but in France and Germany and other countries too, and on the convict ships that took thousands of women prisoners to Australia. Wherever she saw a need, she did something. She set up libraries for the bored men in coastguard stations. She founded the first professional group of nurses – the “Fry nurses” as they were known. And lots more.

All because she would not allow her fears to take over her life. When she felt afraid of doing something, if it was a good and right thing to do, then she prayed for courage and got on an did it – and felt less afraid the next time.

For God was with her. And didn’t he do wonderful things through her?

Time of Reflection

Some fears are good to have – God does not want us taking silly risks or playing dangerous games. But some fears can stop us enjoying life to the full or stop us doing something for other people. What are you afraid of? God can help us if we ask. He wants u to enjoy life, not be afraid of it.

Just take a moment to think about this.

Bible Bits

David, often in lonely dark places looking after his sheep, could say,

“Even if I go through the deepest darkness, I will not be afraid, Lord, for you are with me.” (Psalm 23:4)

And God himself said:

“Do not be afraid! I am with you…I will make you strong and help you.” (Isaiah 41:10)

Prayer

In the Bible, Father, many of the heroes were afraid at times – Moses, Gideon, even your son, Jesus. Yet you stood by them and helped them face their fears and overcome them. Help us when we’re afraid, to know that you’re there, ready to give us courage and strength. Amen

Variations on a Theme

Perhaps there is an adult known to the children who can talk about a time when they were afraid and God helped.

Or you could tell the story of Moses’ call at the burning bush, how God understood his anxiety and boosted his confidence.

Quiz Questions

How many brothers and sisters did Elizabeth Fry have?
How was she different?
She started a little school in Norfolk – what were her pupils known as?
Why was she unhappy at first in London?
What did she do when she heard about Newgate?
What was bad about the Women’s Infirmary?
Why were the jailers to the women’s prison unwilling to open the door?
Why was she not more afraid?
Why did tourists want to visit Newgate?
She improved conditions on the convict ships bound for – where?

Thomas Armitage

Caring about the disabled – the Royal National Institute for the blind

Other themes:

thinking positively, using our talents.

The Problem

Listen to this story: there’s something to think about at the end.

Robbie hated school sports day. Worst day of the year, he reckoned. For Robbie couldn’t run; he’d probably never be able to. He could walk a bit, but if he tried to run, he’d fall flat on his face. And as they didn’t have a falling over event, that was that, he couldn’t take part.

So he just sat with his house, the Swallows, and watched as his mates were called up to the starting line, and as they came back with bits of coloured ribbon pinned to their shirts. He felt a right nerd, for what could he do for his house? Nothing. Everyone understood but that wasn’t the point.

The gun went for the start of the 400 metres. His best friend, Joe Collins, was in this for the Swallows. Not that he’d win, but Robbie would give him a cheer as he got to the finish, hopefully not too far behind the others.

But what was this? Joe for the first time was keeping up, arms and legs pumping away. Robbie had never seen him like this before.

And, look, he’s up to second place now, just behind Matthew Drew.

He’s coming up level!

Robbie could see Joe’s face, bursting with effort. Without thinking, he pushed himself up from his seat and started yelling, “Go on, Joe! Go on! You can do it!”

He was vaguely aware of faces turning to look at him for a second. “Go on, Joe!” he screamed.

Still level, only a few yards to go.

And Robbie was waving his arms wildly, calling out Joe’s name. “Joe! Joe!”

Suddenly it was over. Who’d won? They’d seemed level at the tape.

And then Robbie saw. There he was, his best mate Joe with the gold ribbon for first, striding back to his house like a king.

“Great stuff, Joe,” Robbie grinned at him. “Knew you could do it.”

Joe grinned back. “Couldn’t have done it without you though, Robbie. It was your shouting that did it. I could hear you above everything. Thanks, mate.”

A few minutes later, Mr Broomfield, the teacher in charge of Swallows house, came up to Robbie and said, “Come on, lad, with a voice like that, I’m making you official cheerleader for the Swallows tug-of-war team.”

So, as the team grabbed the rope, a chair was put for Robbie close by. Given official permission to make a noise, Robbie made the most of it. “Pull, I said, pull…and pull, get up, James, pull!”

And suddenly the Swallows fell backwards. They’d won.

“Well done, Robbie,” said Mr Broomfield later. “You’ve got a voice and a half there.”

“Yeah, but..” Robbie began. “That’s all I can do – shout. I can’t take part.”

Now think:

Did Robbie take part that day? Did he let his house down because he couldn’t run?

(You could discuss this or pass on to the main story.)

The Story

Now for a true story. It starts in the year 1860.

It was no use. He’d have to give up.

The one thing he wanted to do in life, to help others through medicine, he would no longer be able to do. For he was going blind.

So, he thought, what now?

Yes, he thought, what? I have great knowledge, and I can’t use it. I have the desire to help people get better, but I can’t help them. I am wealthy enough to give treatment to those who can’t pay, but I can’t see to give them treatment. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t….

Thomas Armitage had had trouble with his sight before when he was a medical student. His eyes had not been able to cope with the amount of reading he had to do. So he had taken a long rest and eventually he’d been able to go on with his studies, becoming a qualified doctor and surgeon. But the trouble was more severe now. A rest would not help him this time.

He prayed into the stillness. “Lord, you understand. You know all I wanted to do for people, for you. And now – I can’t. Oh, Lord – what use can I be if I’m blind?”

But then an idea began to grow in his mind… For yes, there was something he could do, a group of people he perhaps could help, people whose problems he’d be able to understand very well now.

Blind people.

They certainly need help, he knew that. For it was difficult for blind people to get jobs, and if they had no family willing and able to care for them, then they had to beg. It could be a desperately sad life.

And he realised what would change all this: if they could be taught to read. Some could already, by running their fingers over raised type or patterns which represented the different letters of the alphabet. But there were so many systems, so many types of type! So a blind person could only read what was produced in the system he knew.

What was needed was for everything to be produced in one system. But who should decide which? It was obvious to Thomas Armitage. Blind people should decide.

So he brought together a little group of blind men to examine every system of reading by touch that they could lay their hands on, if you’ll excuse the joke. Not just British ones but foreign ones too.

Many other people were asked for their opinions as they went along – many blind people, that is.

Eventually one system came out tops – the one devised by a French lad called Louis Braille when he was just fifteen. It used different patterns of up to six raised dots to represent each letter, number and so on.

Through Dr Armitage’s efforts more and more was printed in the Braille system, with the doctor taking a personal interest in everything to make sure what was produced was the best. He was doing this work for God.

So it was his fingers that checked each hill and valley on the Braille maps, and when sheets of Braille print were stamped out, he would take them home for varnishing in his own kitchen, where they were hung up to dry amongst all the pots and pans. Fortunately his wife was as keen as he was, so she didn’t mind.

As so a whole world of reading was opened up to blind people, as not only books and maps were published in Braille, but also music scores and, I’m afraid, exam papers, and even, would you believe it, times tables. No excuse now for not knowing five fives!

Dr Armitage was concerned about other needs too. He set up a Samaritan fund to help blind people who fell ill or on hard times. And more. He was largely responsible for setting up a college for the blind. He personally provided a swimming pool and gym equipment. And he arranged a special garden for the blind to be part of Kew Gardens.

And today the work he began has grown into a large organisation called the Royal National Institute for the Blind, or RNIB, which trains blind people to do all kinds of jobs, such as computer programming, or helps them set up their own businesses. It runs care homes and holidays for the blind, and much, much more.

And it all began – where? It began with a man who stopped thinking of the “can’ts” in his life and started thinking of the “cans”.

Time of Reflection

We can all think of things that we’d really like to do but can’t. Of course, some “can’ts” would become “cans” if we practised hard enough. But some things we’ll never be able to do, so let’s not think about them. Let’s think about our “cans”. What’s your biggest “can” – the thing you do best? It could be in sport or in music or in school work or a hobby, or something like encouraging others like the boy in the first story. How in the next week or month are you going to make the most of it – for your own sake, and for others? Let’s think about that for a moment.

Bible Bits

God has given us all the possibility of having a satisfying life, a life where the “can’ts” aren’t so important.

David said in one of the Psalms:

“You have done many things for us, O Lord our God…You have made many wonderful plans for us.” (Psalm 40:5)

And Jesus said:

“I have come in order that you might have life – life in all its fullness.” (John 10:10)

Prayer

Help us, Lord, not to be jealous of those who can do what we can’t. Thank you for what we can do. Help us to put our “cans” to good use, whether it’s cheering on the sidelines like Robbie or helping in a way we hadn’t thought of, like Thomas Armitage. Amen

Variations on a Theme

Pupils – and teachers? – could share one thing they’d like to be able to do, but can’t, and one thing they can (and perhaps show a result – a piece of work, a medal, etc). Include a good variety of “cans”.

Quiz Questions

Why was Thomas Armitage so depressed?
What pulled him out of this depression?
What was stopping blind people reading everything printed for them?
Who invented the reading system Dr Armitage chose?
What nationality was Louis Braille?
How old was he when he invented the system?
Braille used patterns of – up to how many dots?
What does RNIB stand for?
Name one way the RNIB helps blind people.
Name one more.

The address of the RNIB is: 224 Great Portland Street, London, W1N 6AA